


The Sunshine and the Sea

by Laramie



Series: The Sunshine And The Sea [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Autism, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lady Anstruther goes to France, Jimmy is left friendless to navigate a new workplace full of confusing people who like to stare at him.</p><p>Or, Downton through the eyes of an autistic Jimmy.</p><p>Very much Jimmy-focused, features pretty much everyone else to varying degrees (Thomas, Ivy and Alfred have the largest secondary roles).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All In All

**Author's Note:**

> My brain seems to consist of a big soup of ideas and sometimes certain ideas latch onto certain others. For example, my novel has an autistic character, and I've been writing a lot of Downton Abbey lately, so I started wondering what things would be like if Jimmy was autistic.
> 
> This is the result, from Jimmy's perspective. It very loosely follows canon (at least the bits that directly affect Jimmy), from Jimmy's arrival up to the end-of-s4 Christmas special (we all know s5 never happened nope nothing).
> 
> Enormous squishy thanks to the admin of fuckyeah-thommy on tumblr and their "Thommy storyline" videos, without which this would have taken much, much longer and may even have been given up on.

When Jimmy walked down the staff corridor of Downton Abbey for the first time, his first impression was that it was so, so big. He didn't know where anything was or how it worked or who was working and living there. Everything was unknown. Flapping his hands helped a little, but he forced himself to stop as he reached the end of the corridor. Entering the servants' hall, Jimmy fixed a smile on his face and said "Hello," to the people amassed there, his gaze only reaching as high as their necks.

Everyone stared and Jimmy wanted to run back along the corridor but he made himself stay in place. "Can we help you?" one of the maids asked.

"I'm here to see Mr Carson," he said, looking at the different widths of wood on the back of the chair in front of him.

Another man walked into the room and he stared at Jimmy too. Was Jimmy doing something wrong? Had he dressed wrongly? Was his face not wearing the right expression?

"Who's this?" the man asked.

"Jimmy Kent, at your service," he said, because that was supposed to be polite. It was what he always said when he met new people, and it seemed to go down well.

"I'm Mr Barrow, his Lordship's valet," the new man said.

"I'm here to see Mr Carson," Jimmy repeated.

"What's the matter, have you all been turned into pillars of salt?" an older woman asked as she entered the room - and _she_ stared at Jimmy as well! He hoped they were not always like that, because it was creepy. "May I help?"

"I'm here to see Mr Carson."

"I see. Well, if you'll - wait there."

"What?" Jimmy asked, but the woman had already started walking away.

"If you wait, she'll go and see if Mr Carson's ready," explained Mr Barrow.

Jimmy did, trying to disappear into a corner as the other servants mercifully returned to whatever they were doing. After a minute or two, the older woman ("I'm Mrs Hughes, the Housekeeper") returned and showed Jimmy into the Butler's office.

"I see you've been working for the Dowager, Lady Anstruther," said Mr Carson.

Jimmy said nothing, because it was not a question.

In his peripheral vision, from where his eyes were fixed on the reference in the Butler's hands, Jimmy saw Mr Carson raise his eyebrows. "Might you tell me about that, or should I simply guess? For example, why did you leave?"

"I can tell you," Jimmy said hastily, because it sounded as though he had got something wrong already. "She's closed up the house and gone to live in France. She wanted me to go but I didn't want to. I didn't think I'd like the food."

"Even though she wanted you to go?"

That's what I _said_ , Jimmy thought. But his fellow footman from Lady Anstruther's (Luke) had said he should make a joke or something, so he echoed one of Luke's favourite sayings: "You know what women can be like."

Mr Carson did not laugh though. Jimmy was not good at telling jokes. "Not, I suspect, as well as you do."

That was a compliment, wasn't it? Jimmy wasn't sure. He ended up being offered the job though, so he couldn't have done too badly. Mr Carson showed him where a few things were and clarified his duties and the routine of the house. His pedantry was reassuring.

Later, Jimmy went upstairs to his new room to wash and change. He put away his few possessions and tried on his new uniform. As he was struggling into his shirt, he heard: "You got the job, then?" He turned to see Mr Barrow.

"I'm on my way, Mr Barrow," he said. "They say you were a footman once, so can I come to you if there's anything I need to know?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

Mr Barrow tried to make eye contact too much.

Jimmy returned to struggling with his new, over-starched clothes.

* * *

Jimmy liked Mrs Patmore. She didn't waste words, just gave their orders and sent them away. She was loud though, which made Jimmy's head hurt.

She was not as annoying as Alfred though, who stared at him combatively and quibbled over which tray he should be carrying. When they did get to carrying them upstairs, Jimmy felt more nervous than ever, feeling as though he was brand-new to the job and starting from the beginning all over again. It was suddenly hard to remember the simplest of tasks, in this entirely new situation.

He was introduced to them all, that first evening, through the oldest and clearly most distinguished of the family. "This is our new footman, mama. What should we call you?"

"Jimmy," he said.

"James, your Ladyship," Mr Carson said.

"My name's Jimmy," Jimmy insisted, because how could he let that change?

"His name's James," Mr Carson repeated. "You may call him James."

He sounded angry, so Jimmy fixed his eyes on his serving tray and said nothing until Mr Carson dismissed him.

"I've never been James in my life," he complained when he got downstairs. "I was Jimmy to Lady Anstruther."

Mr Carson did not budge an inch, and Alfred explained that he never did. "I should be able to use my own name," Jimmy said.

"You won't get any less out of Mr Carson. He thinks he owns everything about us."

* * *

Jimmy tried to ignore the breakfast conversation, because too many words too early in the morning tended to make his brain hurt. Why people were so talkative in the morning, he had no idea. Didn't they have enough to think about? He picked out a few words, though, and he even found that he could join in on their talk about babies. "It's always an idea to be prepared," he said.

"I expect you're always prepared," said Mr Barrow.

"I try to be, Mr Barrow," Jimmy replied, because he always found that having an idea of what would happen in advance was comforting. It helped him deal with what was going to happen.

Afterwards, Mr Carson stopped him. "Jimmy, could you take the time today to wind the clocks? It's time they were done and everyone else is otherwise engaged today. I'll tell you where they are, of course."

"Thank you, Mr Carson. Could I have it written down please?"

Jimmy found himself subject to another disapproving frown, but in the end Mr Carson agreed, and wrote him a quick list of the locations.

The only problem was, he knew nothing about clocks. Miss O'Brien told him to ask Mr Barrow. "I'd keep in with him if I were you," she added, and Jimmy supposed she had to be right because she had just helped him with advice. Accordingly, he went to Mr Barrow a little later, and asked if he would teach Jimmy.

Mr Barrow agreed, and took him to the clock in the hallway. "All you do is put the key into that point in the face - sometimes there's more than one winding point because the clock has more than one set of gears, but we're starting you off with an easy one. Although, this one is actually a timepiece because it doesn't chime. So then you turn it clockwise sixteen times until it becomes stiff, then you stop."

Jimmy lost track of the instructions through all the superfluous words. "Turn what? Look, can't you show me?"

Mr Barrow opened the clock face for him and handed him the key, pointing to the winding point for Jimmy to insert it. "Now turn it fifteen times clockwise and I'll help you feel when to stop on the last one."

Jimmy did as he was told, counting the revolutions aloud. When he reached the last one, Mr Barrow stepped up close behind him and put his hand over Jimmy's. Jimmy didn't much like to be touched, but Mr Barrow's hand was clean and dry, and the touch was firm, so he said nothing as they turned the key together.

"Concentrate on the circuit," Mr Barrow said quietly. "...There. You feel a slight increase in the resistance?"

"Yes," Jimmy replied. Mr Barrow put his hands on Jimmy's shoulders as they spoke about clocks as living things, and Jimmy wished he would stop, but it was easier to keep his back to Mr Barrow and avoid his stare than to move, so he stayed where he was. 

* * *

The kitchen maid, Ivy, kept looking him up and down and smiling. Jimmy was reminded of what Luke had said about women staring and what it meant, and tried to stay out of her way in case she tried to talk to him too much. It took enough energy to speak to the people he _had_ to without wasting it on people he had only known for a day.

He went back to his room when there was a lull in his workload after luncheon, adding a silver spoon to the two forks and a knife already assembled on his windowsill. They caught the light so prettily, reflecting off their clean, bright surfaces.

Mr Barrow spoke from his doorway. "Mr Carson wouldn't be entirely happy to see that."

"Yes he would. It's pretty."

"I meant you stealing the second-best silverware."

Jimmy watched the shadow of his finger blocking the light from the spoon, then letting it back. "I'm not stealing it. It's still here. I'm just using it."

"I'm not so sure Mr Carson would agree. See you later, Jimmy."

* * *

At the end of the day, Jimmy made himself sit at the table with the others, so as not to look unfriendly. All he wanted to do was sit in his bedroom and run the scrap of velvet he had acquired at Lady Anstruther's over his cheek; it felt so smooth and soft.

Instead, he took his pack of cards downstairs and fiddled with them far more than he played. He managed to avoid joining the conversation for the most part, until Mr Barrow said, "Show us a card trick, Jimmy." He was spared this, however, by Mr Carson's interruption to announce the baby.

"Do you like Lady Sybil?" Jimmy asked Mr Barrow, shuffling his cards repeatedly.

"I do. We worked together in the hospital during the war. So I know her better than all of them, really. She's a lovely person. Like you." And Mr Barrow touched him again, and Jimmy wanted him to stop but Miss O'Brien had told him to make friends with Mr Barrow and when he had told Lady Anstruther's friend not to touch him she had been angry and Lady Anstruther had told him not to be impertinent.

Miss O'Brien must have seen his frown because she asked, "Anything the matter?"

"Mr Barrow touches me," Jimmy said.

"I'm glad to hear it. That's a very good sign. If he's taken to you, he'll definitely put in a good word with his Lordship."

"I'd like to tell him to keep his distance."

"Do you want to get your marching orders, then?"

"Why?" Jimmy asked.

"He'll find it very insulting if you embarrass him, and then he won't be inclined to help you."

Jimmy bid her goodnight and went upstairs to think.

* * *

The morning after Lady Sybil's death, Jimmy knocked on Mr Barrow's door. He answered, red-eyed and head bowed, still only half changed into his uniform. "Good morning, Mr Barrow. I was wondering if I could speak with you a moment. In private," he added, because Miss O'Brien had told him not to embarrass Mr Barrow.

Mr Barrow nodded once, and let Jimmy inside, moving slowly as he pulled on his jacket.

"I don't like to be touched," Jimmy explained to his back.

"Jimmy, is this really the moment?"

"I won't be long, we won't be late."

Mr Barrow did not respond, so Jimmy continued.

"It's nothing personal against you, I just don't like it."

Mr Barrow half-turned. "Don't like what?" he asked, as though he was somewhere else.

"I don't like to be touched. It's too feathery and it makes my skin itch when people touch me lightly."

"Oh. So what kind of… touch do you like?"

"Just, firm. I like firm touches from people. So I know what they're about. And then let they let go neatly, not like they're leaving fingers behind."

"Alright," Mr Barrow said. "I'll bear it in mind. See you at breakfast, Jimmy."

And he did, looking little more recovered. Jimmy was proud he had asked Mr Barrow not to touch him without upsetting him further. Jimmy remembered what his mother had said, a long time ago, when a young woman who lived near to them had lost her sweetheart in an accident. "I'd say your grief speaks well for her."

"Thank you for that," Mr Barrow replied, and he must have listened a little to what Jimmy had said because he gripped Jimmy's hand firmly under the table before letting go neatly. "Thank you for saying that."

All the same, he would have preferred Mr Barrow not to touch him. It made his fingers prickle.

* * *

Later, he and Alfred waited for orders from Mr Carson in the hall. Mr Barrow was fixing a shoe, which was interesting; making something how it should be. Miss O'Brien seemed to think Jimmy liked Ivy, but she talked to him too much, and the pitch of her voice scratched his ears.

Mr Carson entered the room, chest puffed out. The room fell silent as he spoke. "It has come to my attention recently that several pieces of silverware are missing from the cabinets. I am not, of course, suggesting for a _moment_ that any of you have taken it, but if you happen to have seen it or are able to find it, we would all be grateful for its safe return."

Mr Barrow looked at Jimmy. "I'm sure someone's just mislaid them after polishing, Mr Carson," he said.

" _That_ was my _point_ ," Mr Carson replied. "If anyone does happen to find them, please return them to the cabinet or to my office, and we'll say no more about it."

Jimmy said nothing, because Mr Barrow had said that Mr Carson would be angry.


	2. Two Trees

Jimmy enjoyed his days off. They had always been a way to escape from the relentless presence of people that happened when you worked in a big house, always making noise and asking questions and having petty arguments that made Jimmy tense with nerves. He might not be good at reading facial expressions, but he could read the mood of a room as quickly as blinking; it seemed to crawl under his skin in an instant.

Often, when released from his duties, Jimmy went for a walk. Sometimes, if he could face it and had the money, he would take the bus, and go for a walk somewhere further away. Occasionally he even went as far as the seaside and bought chips to eat on the sand (no fish to go with it, because the crunchy batter hurt his teeth and ears).

He sketched, too, (badly), or looked for sheet music for the piano, or simply sat in a pub and played cards. He borrowed a book on optics from His Lordship and read it four or five times.

Playing the piano was something he was rather proud of. He liked it, because it was a way of connecting with people - especially if they sang along - without anyone having to touch him or look him in the eyes. He loved to play with a good singer, their voice winding around the notes he played into a beautiful harmony. It made him happy.

Accordingly, he sat down at the piano at Downton within his first week, hoping he could impress them, because he was aware that most of them already found him strange. He tried his best to fit in, but sometimes he just wasn't sure what he was supposed to do that would pacify them and not make them think he was odd.

When he picked up the book of sheet music, Mr Barrow came over to ask about his favourite composers, so in return Jimmy asked for advice on what he should play that everyone liked. It seemed to work, because Mrs Hughes complimented his playing, and so did Mr Barrow, who laid his hands on Jimmy's shoulders, massaging them slightly.

Which, honestly, wasn't so bad, except when Miss O'Brien told him to leave he trailed his fingers away across the bare skin of his neck, which was horrible. He must have forgotten what Jimmy had said.

"I wish he wouldn't do that," Jimmy said to O'Brien. He had asked, he had _asked_ Mr Barrow not to touch him lightly. "He's always touching me and I want him to stop."

"You're not going to tell Mr Carson?" said Miss O'Brien, though Jimmy didn't know why, because he hadn't mentioned that.

Even Daisy complimented his playing, though she said it made her sad. He was not sure how to feel about Daisy, because on the one hand she usually said things very plainly, but on the other hand she seemed to be saying that she liked to feel sad, which was silly. He offered to dance with her, though, because he knew he was good at it and he wanted her to like him.

It seemed to work to start with - until Mr Carson caught them and he was royally told off.

* * *

There was to be a new face to join them, Jimmy heard, which was bad enough on its own but this Mr Bates had worked there before, so everyone would know him and how to react with him except for Jimmy. Which would only make his differences more acutely obvious. Jimmy found himself rocking gently while sitting at the table, and kept having to ask Mrs Patmore for an extra crust of bread to chew on, to distract himself. (She obliged the first two times, then just flicked a tea towel at him and told him to find something useful to do.)

"When will he be coming?" Jimmy asked the table at large.

"This morning, Jimmy, as you well know," Mrs Hughes replied.

"What's he like?"

Mr Barrow answered this time. "Pig-headed, pious and in love with his own goodness. Why are you rocking?"

Jimmy made himself sit still. He shouldn't rock. His mother had always told him not to rock, said it made him look mentally deficient. Jimmy did not think he was mentally deficient. He could serve a dinner once and be able to replicate the entire table - serving dishes, cutlery and all - weeks later. That wasn't deficient.

Most people looked pleased to see Mr Bates, but Mr Barrow did not, and it made Jimmy nervous. Mr Barrow had a lot of time for him so if he did not like someone Jimmy would mistrust them. But Mrs Patmore liked Mr Bates, so maybe he wasn't so bad.

Jimmy thought that Mr Bates seemed quiet, and he moved gently.

* * *

When Jimmy entered the servants' hall one afternoon after upstairs' lunch, he saw Lady Mary's blue dress laid out on the table, the skirt hanging down off the side. Which it shouldn't be.

"Lady Mary's dress is on the table," he alerted everyone.

Anna glanced up at him. "I've been repairing it for her. She wants to wear it tonight but the seam had come apart."

"Lady Mary's dress is on the table," Jimmy repeated.

"Yes, I didn't want it to get trodden on. Don't worry, it'll be gone soon."

"Lady Mary's dress is on the table!" he said again, because no one was listening.

"Just shut up, Jimmy, she's told you why," Alfred put in.

"Lady Mary's dress is on the table!"

"Just shut up!"

"Lady Mary requested at lunch that you take the dress up as soon as it's mended, for her to try on," Mr Barrow said smoothly, entering the room behind Jimmy. "Mr Carson must have forgotten to tell you, Anna. That's what you meant, isn't it, Jimmy?"

"Yes," Jimmy replied, relieved.

"I see," Anna said, giving Jimmy a smile. "Thank you, then, Jimmy. I'll take it up now."

* * *

The next day, when Jimmy returned from serving dinner, he heard Miss O'Brien speaking in the servants' hall. 

"That Jimmy's a funny one and no mistake," she said, and Jimmy froze in the corridor.

"Don't know what you mean," came Mr Barrow's voice.

"All that fuss over the dress yesterday. I didn't think Mr Carson was hiring simpletons now."

"He hired Alfred," replied Mr Barrow. "Jimmy's alright."

"You've got to admit he's strange," Miss O'Brien said.

"I think he's lovely," said Mr Barrow, and Jimmy burned with pride. Miss O'Brien might think him strange, but Mr Barrow didn't.

There had been a moment of quiet; now Miss O'Brien spoke again, her voice fading out as Jimmy walked away: "Well then. He certainly speaks very highly..."

* * *

Jimmy spent a lot of time playing cards when he was in the servants' hall. It was a good excuse not to look at people as he made conversation, and he liked the smooth expanse of them, the continual reordering, the press of the card edges against the pads of his fingers as he shuffled.

Mr Barrow spent a lot of time smoking, and Jimmy often wondered if it was for the same reason. Cigarettes were so eminently roll-able. He dare not ask, though, even though he had seen Mr Barrow rocking slightly when he was feeling something big.

The days slipped by; Jimmy attempted to flirt with Ivy as Luke had tried to teach him, but he thought he was doing it wrong because she kept looking at him as though he was strange. Mrs Patmore continued to be brisk and uncomplicated. Alfred continued to be useless and annoying, and Jimmy continued to bite at him.

Mr Barrow advised him to keep calm, which was easy for him to say when he wasn't stuck playing second-fiddle to a ten-foot beanpole, though Alfred was twice as thick and half as useful. Jimmy tried to follow his advice, difficult as it was. It did not help when Mr Carson caught on to his trick with the serving spoons and told him off obscurely in front of everyone else.

He went upstairs for a while to calm down, spending much of the time letting free the movement that had been gathering under his skin since that morning; he flapped, rocked and spun to his heart's content. How people could go whole days, weeks, without doing this, he would never understand.

Jimmy got thirsty after a while, and eventually realised that he should go and get a drink. He made himself tea and wandered into the servants' hall, because only Mr Barrow was in there and he could deal with that.

"If I'd thrown a bucket of slop in the old lady's lap, I wouldn't be allowed to go to the flicks," he complained.

"What are you saying?"

"Mr Carson doesn't like me," Jimmy replied. He had found that Mr Carson seemed suspicious of him. Jimmy got the impression that he had only been offered the job on the strength of his reference, and the reality of him was found wanting in Mr Carson's eyes. Which wasn't fair; he tried so hard to be normal. "No matter what Alfred does, he still prefers him. It's not bloody fair."

"Well I love you," Thomas said flippantly, which Jimmy found oddly reassuring.

"If you do, you're on your own." Perhaps not entirely; Mrs Patmore saved him the odd crust of bread; but other than that, most people looked at him as though he was an alien imposter doing a bad impression of a human. Though that was how he felt about himself half of the time too.

What he liked about Mr Barrow was that he asked specific questions, so Jimmy always knew how to answer. He managed to talk about his family without any awkward pauses, keeping his fidgeting down to rubbing his thumb against the teacup. He liked hard objects, when he knew where the edges were.

"Funny, we're quite a pair. We both like to look very sure of ourselves but we're not so sure underneath, are we?"

Jimmy hoped Mr Barrow was not referring to his _behaviours_. It had taken months for him to trust Luke with his fears, and he had only known Mr Barrow about a week. Or perhaps he was saying that he understood? That he knew how Jimmy felt?

"It's hard to be different," Jimmy said carefully, and saw Mr Barrow smile in his peripheral vision.

"That it is," Mr Barrow agreed, and soon afterwards Jimmy went upstairs. He was barely conscious of taking the empty teacup, but when he got upstairs he filled it with water from his wash-basin and put it in the windowsill to catch the morning light. As it was, the candlelight flickered delightedly in the surface, and Jimmy spent far too long watching it before he tore himself away to wash and dress for bed.

His nightclothes were infinitely more comfortable than his livery, which dug in and pained him and distracted him until he found the right places to sew patches on. His mother had taught him how to sew with such small, tight stitches that they could barely be seen or, most importantly, felt.

He settled into bed, and drifted to sleep.

* * *

The first thing Jimmy became aware of was lips on his, a weight on the bed, a presence leaning over him; then he was woken fully by Alfred entering the room and saying words that he was too shocked to process. Jimmy scooted backwards on the bed, drawing himself away and staring wide-eyed at Mr Barrow.

"It's alright," Mr Barrow said, reaching out a hand, but it wasn't alright because this was Jimmy's room and Mr Barrow was inside it and touching him even though this was sleep time, and Alfred was staring at them both as though they had done something terrible and Jimmy didn't understand. "Alfred's nothing, no one will believe him," Mr Barrow continued, but he leaned closer and _he could not touch Jimmy_ so Jimmy leapt away out of bed and pressed himself into the smooth, hard corner of the room.

Mr Barrow looked sad; the hall light shone in his tears. He was talking but Jimmy couldn't make the sounds into words.

Jimmy couldn't answer. He heard Alfred say something he couldn't make sense of, and they both left. Jimmy locked the door behind them then pressed himself into the corner and banged his head against the wall, and eventually fell into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't make up the thing about Thomas rocking sometimes; he really does.


	3. Adagio for Strings

When Jimmy awoke the next morning, the sun was too bright, and the shadows were wrong; he must have slept late. Beyond that, his head was full of buzzing. His neck ached. His eyes hurt. And he had an overwhelming sense of gloom.

He rolled away from the wall and lay flat on his front. His stomach hurt. The floor smelled of wood and dust. Jimmy stared at the dust motes dancing in the air, slow and lethargic. He felt his heart rate slow as he watched the floating specks in the sunlight.

Noise. Knocking on the door. Someone shouting. Door being pushed.

Dust floating, tumbling over and around each other in a slow-motion waltz. Beautiful. Spinning in the sunlight.

Knocking. Distantly: "James? … If you don't open this door, I'm going to come in." Lovely silence for a few seconds, then rattling noise (key in lock?), door opened. "James, what on earth are you doing on the floor?"

Jimmy turned his head to lay his other cheek on the floor, and looked at Mr Carson's shoes.

"Are you _ill_?"

Jimmy blinked.

"Because if you are _not_ ill, I would expect a full explanation of why you did not come downstairs to serve breakfast." Mr Carson stared at him. Jimmy waited for him to say something else. After a moment, Mr Carson drew himself up; he seemed angry. "Might I suggest you get dressed and take yourself downstairs immediately. There is _work_ to be done. You can start with cleaning the boots."

Jimmy pushed himself laboriously off the floor, and stood opposite Mr Carson, waiting for him to move.

"I won't dismiss you, James, because you come with good references and until today you've caused no more trouble than any other footman we've had. But I have to say I have yet to see how you have _earned_ those references." Mr Carson turned his back and Jimmy followed him down the stairs.

On his way to the boot room, Jimmy passed Anna.

"Jimmy - are you quite well?" she asked, trying to look in his eyes.

Jimmy nodded, keeping his gaze on her shoulder.

"Mr Barrow looked tired this morning as well. I hope there isn't something going round." She leaned a little closer and added conspiratorially: "I think he might have snapped at Alfred this morning; Alfred keeps glaring at him. Mr Carson can't get to the bottom of it and you know how he hates that."

Jimmy nodded again, and Anna stepped away, smiled briefly, and continued on her way. Jimmy went into the boot room and set about his duties, lining up the shoes to be cleaned and starting the process by giving the first pair of boots a rub with the stiff brush.

He loved polishing shoes. It wasn't too bright in here, and the polish was clean and pungent, and by the end he would have a pile of beautifully kept and functional shoes. Jimmy fell into the rhythm of it effortlessly, his whole mind focused on the task.

Mr Barrow came to the door after a while. "I won't be long," he said immediately. "And I won't come in. I came to fetch you for lunch. An'… I wanted to say I'm sorry. For the… misunderstanding. And I won't do it again."

You made everything wrong, Jimmy thought. I thought I knew you and you weren't supposed to do that. And now I don't know anyone else either, and it's really scary.

He hadn't known two men could do that either, so now he had to find a whole new understanding of what kissing meant, and what relationships were.

"Can you forgive me?" Mr Barrow said more quietly. After a few moments of Jimmy's silence he shifted and added: "Will you tell anyone?"

Jimmy shook his head.

Mr Barrow smiled a little. "Thank you, Jimmy. Now come on, it's lunchtime."

* * *

"Aren't you going to tell anyone?" Alfred hissed to Jimmy later, when Jimmy was back in the boot room shining His Lordship's best hunting boots. His arms were beginning to ache.

"No."

"They might think you wanted him to do it," Alfred said, sitting on the table. "Anyone might."

"But I didn't want it."

" _I_ know that, I saw how you reacted when he did it. People might think it though, if you stay silent."

Jimmy thought about it for a moment. "Only me and you and Mr Barrow know. So they won't think anything. Because they don't know anything."

"What if I told them?"

Jimmy frowned at the boot he was polishing. Alfred was making no sense. "Why?"

"Well… it's against the law, ain't it? Don't want to stand idly by while this sort of thing goes on. To think, he's been here so long and we never knew."

"If you didn't know, does it matter? He's done no harm to anyone," Jimmy said.

Alfred was quiet for a while. "Maybe. My aunt knows something's up though, and I don't know what to tell her."

"Anna thinks Mr Barrow snapped at you and that's why you're glaring at him."

"You mean you want me to lie for him? A man like that and you want me to lie for him? We can't let him hurt people like he did you."

"He didn't hurt me," Jimmy said. "Don't make it big, Alfred. Just let us all forget about it. I just want to not have to think about it."

"All right, Jimmy," Alfred said at last.

At that point, Mr Barrow came to the door.

"Ah - Jimmy, Mr Carson wants you so he can show you which silverware to lay for tomorrow." He nodded curtly at them both and made to leave.

"He doesn't want you near him," Alfred interrupted, and Mr Barrow stopped dead, his back to them still. "We… aren't going to tell anyone what you did. I'm going to tell my aunt that you and I had a difference of opinion; she doesn't have to know it's about Jimmy. But you have to stay away from him now."

Jimmy saw Mr Barrow nod once. "Very well," he said quietly. He half-turned to glance at them both briefly, almost furtively. "Thank you," he whispered, and left.

* * *

Mr Barrow was different after that. He and Jimmy never spoke in a room on their own, unless it was for one of them to deliver the briefest of instructions to the other, and Mr Barrow was always careful to keep a good distance between the two of them. Jimmy rather liked how he had changed; there was no chance of him unexpectedly reaching out to pat him on the arm as Mrs Patmore sometimes did, and he rarely spoke of trivial things which Jimmy did not understand the point of. He never quite trusted the change, though, and tried to keep his distance. Sometimes, though, he noticed that Mr Barrow seemed sad for no apparent reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my view that while Alfred has period-typical homophobia, he doesn't actually hate Thomas or want him to be unhappy. He's fairly easily led and was talked into speaking out by Miss O'Brien (Jimmy the same). I figure that if he'd only spoken to Jimmy first, whose only desire, even in canon, seems to be to forget about the whole thing and stay away from Thomas, he could very easily have gone in the other direction. And in fairness, even Mr Carson was reluctant to punish Thomas in any way. So if Miss O'Brien never actually knew… it could all have gone very differently.
> 
> My only regret is that in my version Mrs Hughes doesn't find out because I'm very attached to the idea of her knowing and accepting him; but without threat of dismissal without a reference I really can't imagine Thomas confiding in her, and don't see why/how the other two would bring it up once they'd agreed not to mention it. It's kind of adorable how almost everyone knows and don't care though.


	4. Experience

In the beginning, Jimmy had spent most of his days in an agony of terror that someone would think him mentally deficient and take him away somewhere, but as time went on the fear lessened. Jimmy would have liked to have had a proper friend, someone to confide in, like Luke, who had told Jimmy about women and when to laugh and how to ask people questions about themselves so they would like you. He was happy here, though; the people at Downton were nice.

Mrs Patmore often pulled a handful of dough from the loaf, and cooked it separately to make Jimmy a small, tough roll to chew on because she knew how much he liked it. Mr Carson continued to view him with slight suspicion, but since Jimmy did his job as well as any other footman he accepted Jimmy's tendency to miss his sarcasm and his peculiar (in Mr Carson's eyes) hatred of the carpet in the drawing room (it made such a painful noise when stepped on).

Alfred seemed to enjoy sharing a secret with Jimmy, despite the potentially dangerous nature of it, and once he had come to terms with his decision to lie to his aunt he became a good workmate to Jimmy. Not to say that they were quite _friends_ , but they made a good team even when they were pushed by extra guests or a course more than usual.

Jimmy made himself happy, too. He had gained two beautifully textured wine glasses from Mrs Hughes when several others in the set had been broken, and watched the rainbow patterns they made on the floor at the right time of day. He played cards in the servants' hall when everyone was relaxed, and sometimes played against the others - usually Alfred or Ivy.

* * *

One autumn day, the fair came to Thirsk. Alfred persuaded Jimmy to go along with all the others, "or I'll be stuck with Mr Barrow!", but Jimmy wasn't looking forward to it very much. The last time he had been to the fair Luke had had to pull him away to the field next door, where he hid away from the noise, smells and people until he had calmed down enough to go home. There was just too much of everything; too many bright lights and shouting stallholders, screaming children and movement everywhere.

"I hope things won't be awkward between you and Mr Barrow today," Alfred said as they were setting out the silverware. "Only I know things have been a bit tense between you and I don't want you to spoil it."

"Nothing's tense," Jimmy said. "We're fine."

"Funny thing is, you hardly give him the time of day and he won't hear a bad word about you."

Jimmy began to panic. "What have I done?"

"I only meant he won't hear anyone speak against you."

"Why are you having a go at me then? We're fine."

"Well, he gets all quiet and snappy if you're short with him."

"Does he?"

"Well, I suppose he wouldn't with you," Alfred conceded. "But we have to deal with him, and I'd sooner not if we're to have a good day, if you take my meaning. So, just be civil with him, is all I'm asking."

* * *

Even from half a mile away, Jimmy could hear the music and shouting of the fair. He fought not to show his discomfort, and even managed to help win the tug-of-war amid shouting onlookers, but after collecting his winnings he had to walk away with his hands over his ears.

Beer, he decided, was the way to deal with this, so he bought himself (and, it felt like, half the fairground) a pint or three, before making his way around the rest of the stalls. The noise bothered him a lot less when he was tipsy; he was calmer, and the noise seemed to filter through to him more gently, as if through water.

He spotted Daisy and Ivy at one of the stalls and bought them a go, but didn't trust his aim enough to try himself.

Jimmy stuck around for as long as he could stand it, but after a couple of hours he had to get away. He went for a quiet walk, and away from the staring eyes he let himself flap his hands to help calm down. Stressful, stressful, stressful, he thought. How could people enjoy that?

As he crossed the footbridge, Jimmy spotted the dark cave-like area created by the curve of the underside of the roadbridge. It looked like a good place to sit for a while, so he did so, and rocked a little in the calming dark with his eyes closed as he listened to the birds. He hummed, quietly, a long, droning note to soothe his ears.

"What the hell's wrong with you, you halfwit?" came a voice, and immediately Jimmy stilled, though every instinct in him was screaming to rock - he was just too afraid to show his natural responses. He could feel his heart pounding hard enough to jump out of his mouth. He forced himself to his feet as his throat closed up. Movement on the other side of the bridge. Could hardly breathe. Voices, hands on him, bodies too close, heart bursting, world pressing in. Shouting. Let go.

Mr Barrow. He shouted something at Jimmy but Jimmy could not understand, so he just ran, because he needed to move and he needed to get away and because Mr Barrow was being hurt and Jimmy could not help on his own.

He ran for the doctor, but once he had led him to the bridge Jimmy stayed back. He did not know how much Mr Barrow had seen, and he had not been so obviously… _abnormal_ in the whole time he had been at Downton - not outside the safety of his room, in any case.

He paced, a more acceptable but less effective way of letting out his feelings, as the doctor looked at Mr Barrow. Mr Barrow, who had got hurt because of Jimmy. Luke had said that was a way of showing love, to let yourself be hurt instead of someone else. He said there were loads of ways of doing it, but Jimmy had never quite understood him until now.

Jimmy wanted to help him, but he didn't know how.


	5. Lightning In A Bottle

Later that day, after Jimmy had shut himself up in his bedroom for a few hours to recover, he went to see Mr Barrow. He wanted to understand why he had acted as he had, and to find out how much he had seen.

When he entered the room, Mr Barrow was sat up on his bed holding a newspaper, his legs stretched out in front of him. Jimmy couldn't tell what his facial expression upon seeing Jimmy meant, it was too mixed and confusing, but there seemed to be a hint of a smile in there.

"How much did you see?" Jimmy asked.

That seemed to make Mr Barrow sad. "Enough to know you needed help."

"Did you hear what he called me? Did you see why?"

Mr Barrow was quiet for a few seconds. "In a manner of speaking. Yes, I heard, and I saw what you were doing, but that doesn't mean I see why he said it… But then I know you better. You're not what he said, Jimmy."

"Did you follow me?"

"So many questions!"

"Did you?"

"I like to keep an eye out. I could see you'd had a bit to drink, so… Yes. Yes, I did follow you."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't." Jimmy moved a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "I don't understand you, Mr Barrow. Alfred said I make you quiet and snappy, but I thought we were getting on well. And you saw what I was doing but you don't think there's anything wrong with me. And then you were really brave and you helped me even though I make you sad."

"If ever you've made me sad, it's only because of me wanting things I can't have."

"I can't change, Mr Barrow. I don't know how to be different. I can't give you what you want."

"I understand that, I do. And I don't ask for it. You be who you are, and I'll be who I am. But I'd like it if we could be friends."

Jimmy liked that idea. Mr Barrow was agreeable company, and Jimmy had wanted a friend. "I'd like that too," he replied.

Mr Barrow gave a big smile. "Thank you, Jimmy. Thank you."

"Should I call you Thomas, if we're friends now?"

"If you like," Jimmy's new friend agreed. "Make yourself useful or somethin' - read the paper."

* * *

Jimmy had to admit, life was nicer now he and Mr Barrow had agreed to be friends. Thomas no longer seemed to carry around a tension, which allowed Jimmy to relax as well, and he persisted in keeping his distance physically, which Jimmy appreciated. In return, Jimmy stopped shutting down his attempts at conversation, because he could make sense of Thomas now and knew what he expected. They began a long tradition of reading the paper together, explaining the long words to Alfred when Thomas recovered and their reading moved to the servants' hall.

Jimmy was always the first to hear of Thomas' gossip and plans, and Thomas was the first to hear of Jimmy's frustrations and joys.

Jimmy did not call Thomas by his given name all the time, of course; around the others, he tried to remember to call him Mr Barrow, as befitted his station, but in the privacy of his own head or when they were alone Jimmy was free to say 'Thomas'. It was a small intimacy, but one which Jimmy was not willing to let go of.

There were no such subtleties when referring to his fellow footman; Alfred was Alfred, all the time. They went into York together on occasion, and stood in the spice shops sniffing appreciatively until they sneezed or got thrown out for putting paying customers off. Alfred would gaze longingly at the cinnamon, bemoaning that a footman's salary would never stretch to such a thing.

Jimmy even managed to speak to Ivy, though her voice continued to be just the wrong pitch. He tried really hard to be nice to her to make up for the times when he simply couldn't handle being near her, because he really did like her.

* * *

"Did you know light from a candle has all the colours of a rainbow in it?" Jimmy said one day. He and Thomas were playing cards in the servants' hall; both were smoking.

"That's interesting," Thomas said.

"And all the colours add up to make white, even though mixing different colour paint together makes brown. Isn't that strange? If you put a prism in a bright light it splits all the colours up again and that's what makes the rainbow. The different colours travel through at different angles so that's why they get separated. A rainbow in the sky is almost the same thing, but the light from the sun reflects off the raindrops and all the colours get split up in exactly the same way."

"You certainly know a lot about it," said Mr Bates, from further down the table.

"It's fascinating how a candle and the sun do exactly the same thing," Jimmy continued. "Only we've managed to do it ourselves instead of waiting for the sun and raindrops to line up in just the right way. People think prisms are just pretty but it shows just how the world works as well."

Jimmy became aware that he was rocking slightly, and stopped himself. Thomas frowned and Jimmy worried that he had gone on for too long.

"Sorry."

"No, it's - it's fine," Thomas said.

Jimmy glanced at his face as Thomas tapped his cigarette ash into a teacup; he still looked serious, with a frown line between his eyebrows. It made Jimmy feel uncomfortable. He stood up and gathered his cards. "I'm going to bed," he said. "Goodnight."

Sure that he had ruined everything, Jimmy ran upstairs to his room, where he set his cards on the table and sat on his bed. Thomas would hate him now and think him boring, and Mr Bates would think he was more strange than he already did.

There came a light tapping on Jimmy's open bedroom door; Thomas stood there. "I - I wish you didn't have to feel embarrassed, Jimmy. It's good to have a passion. I only wish I had something I felt as strongly about."

"Do you think I'm strange?"

Thomas was silent for a few seconds, and Jimmy shot a look at his face only to see that he was smiling. "Only in the best of ways," Thomas replied quietly, then nodded a goodbye. "Goodnight, Jimmy."


	6. Dear Fellow Traveller

Jimmy climbed the stairs one May evening with considerable relief, not bothering to force himself to stay downstairs with the others - it simply was not worth the effort. It had been a difficult day; his fellow staff were opaque, everything seemed to be in a different place, and he could not figure out how to do things he _knew_ he had done before.

Instead, Jimmy reorganised his windowsill collection and spent some time watching the water ripple as he blew on it.

After a while, Thomas came to the door. "Evenin', Jimmy. You seemed a bit down today; I was wondering if you wanted to play poker for a while."

"I don't have the energy," Jimmy replied. "It's too complicated."

"Snap, then?" Thomas suggested.

Jimmy considered. It took a lot less thought to play snap than to play poker. "Very well," he agreed. "I'll come over in a minute." It was an unspoken agreement between them that Thomas never went into Jimmy's room. Jimmy was not sure which of them was supposed to be made to feel safe by that.

"Don't forget the cards," Thomas said, before leaving the doorway.

When he had removed his livery, Jimmy picked up the playing cards and crossed the hall in his undershirt.

"I feel overdressed," Thomas said when Jimmy entered the room.

"Why?"

"You all casual, and me still suited up like I'm off to serve at dinner."

Jimmy said nothing, because he didn't have the energy to figure out what kind of response Thomas was looking for. Instead, he sat on one of the chairs Thomas had put facing his bedside table, itself now moved to the centre of the room, and dealt the cards between them. Thomas lit two cigarettes and handed one to Jimmy before picking up his cards.

"Are we betting?" Thomas asked.

"If you like."

"Shilling a game?"

Jimmy nodded, and put down his first card.

They played mostly in silence, to Jimmy's relief. The only time they would speak was when a pair was seen, and they would both rush to be the first to slap a hand on top of the pile to claim it for their own. A few months ago, Jimmy would have recoiled from the way their hands touched, but he found now that it wasn't so bad to feel Thomas' cool dry skin against his own.

After Jimmy had won the first game, Thomas picked up the cards and began to deal. "How about we make it more interesting? A crown a game."

"A whole crown?"

"A whole crown. Life's boring enough, let's risk financial ruin and debt to a friend. Here, we can use these instead of coins for now." He tore a sheet of paper into multiple pieces and laid the pile between them, and they played on.

"How are you doing this?!" Thomas demanded later, when Jimmy won yet another game. "It's like you have a frog's tongue for an arm!"

Jimmy found himself rocking gleefully again, and quickly stopped. It was so hard, to quash his every natural instinct.

Leaning over the table towards him, Thomas said quietly, "You don't have to stop yourself, Jimmy. Not on my account."

"It's bad," Jimmy said, shuffling the cards rapidly. "I shouldn't do it, I should be normal, I'm not deficient, Thomas, I'm not."

"I know you're not. You're… Just don't worry. You've just managed to win over a pound from me, so you're obviously doing pretty well for yourself."

Jimmy smiled. "I guess I am."

"One more game? Double or nothing?"

Jimmy nodded and dealt the cards. "You're very kind, Thomas."

"I don't think there's many would be queueing up to agree with you."

"You're kind to me."

"Well. I try to be."

They lapsed into silence , with only the rhythmic whisper and slap of cards between them.

"Snap!" Thomas won a dozen cards.

"Snap!" Jimmy won a whole score or more. Thomas took a moment too long to remove his hand.

More cards. "Snap!" Jimmy cried.

"It's not fair, when your hand's nearer. You already put the card down, there's less far for you to go," Thomas complained.

"You put down as many as me, Barrow," Jimmy countered.

"You're going down, Kent. And when you hand over that three pounds -"

"Snap!"

"Oh, god."

Jimmy now had a huge pile of cards, while Thomas had perhaps half a dozen.

"Snap!" Thomas won another four.

For the next six cards each, there were no matches. Then -

"Snap!" Jimmy won again. Thomas now had only three cards remaining. They played on. Thomas won two cards. Then it came down to the last pair - Thomas put down his last card, Jimmy added one atop it and - "Snap!"

Thomas stared at the full pack of cards in Jimmy's hands. "I can't believe I owe you three pounds."

Jimmy rocked happily, and this time he didn't make himself stop until Thomas suggested it was time for bed, and Jimmy had to return to his own room.

* * *

Thomas paid up the following week, with all his usual dignity. "Here you are Mr Kent, my debts paid in full," he said as he joined Jimmy outside to smoke.

Jimmy took the money and slipped it in his trouser pocket until he could find a moment to take it upstairs.

"And what do you plan to do with your ill-gotten gains?" he asked, traces of smoke lacing the words.

"I won them fair and square," Jimmy replied. "I don't know what I'll do with it yet. Maybe I'll take Ivy somewhere."

"Thought you didn't like her?"

"I don't like her voice. But she's nice. You know, pretty." Which she was, even if Jimmy couldn't quite understand why that seemed to be so important. She liked Jimmy, too, which not many people had before Downton. And really, he wanted to love and be loved, so he had to make an effort, and Ivy seemed the most agreeable option. He was hardly going to approach Mrs Patmore.

"Well," Thomas said. "You could have quite a night of it. Buy her champagne and everything."

"Maybe."

Jimmy tried to suggest it, later. He thought of taking her dancing, because he enjoyed the sway and spin of dance halls and thought she might too. He danced with her in the kitchen and was about to ask when they were interrupted, so they met in the boot room later instead.

"Ivy," he said, scrubbing one shoe with a sturdy brush. "I was wondering if you wanted to come dancing."

"With you?" she asked, stepping closer.

"O' course with me," he replied. "I thought it might be fun."

"It sounds lovely," Ivy said; she moved right in front of him, and kissed him on the lips.

Before Jimmy could react, the door opened and Alfred stood there - Jimmy jerked away. Alfred walked away immediately.

"Thanks, Jimmy," Ivy said, and kissed Jimmy on the cheek. "I'd love to." She hurried away with a giggle, and Jimmy felt proud of himself. He was doing it right, like Luke had always tried to teach him. Luke was good at making women like him.

* * *

They were not allowed to make the trip on their own, so in the end two of the maids accompanied them. They went to the dance hall in Ripon, to make it more of an event, though Ivy said quietly that she felt a little silly being on the bus in her dancing dress. The two maids, Grace and Ella, kept mostly to themselves, sitting close together at the back of the bus and grinning at each other.

When they reached the hall, Jimmy escorted Ivy off the bus, and Grace seemed to be doing the same for Ella. They paid their entrance together, then they seemed to melt into the crowd and Jimmy lost sight of them.

"Are we going to dance then?" Ivy asked, and Jimmy obliged, enjoying the gentle turn and sway throughout the room.

"The lights are pretty," Ivy said later; there were different-coloured lights shining against one wall, giving a dappled, sunlight-through-water effect.

"It works because there are all different colours in normal light," Jimmy said nervously. "So when they put filters in front of it, only some of the colours can come through and the others get stopped by the filter, so it ends up looking that colour."

"It looks like the sea," Ivy said. "Like we could just float away on the waves." She smiled as she spoke, so Jimmy hoped he was doing alright. He wished he could ask Luke.

The evening whirled away in a spiral of dancing and drinking and music. The notes trickled gently over the crowd, or swept them all along, and Jimmy loved it.

"That was brilliant," Jimmy said as they left. "It was brilliant." Grace and Ella followed behind them, holding hands and giggling. Jimmy suspected they had had a bit to drink. He chattered to Ivy on the bus back, his guard lowered and his tongue loosened by alcohol and happiness.

"We should go and see a film next week," Ivy said as they walked across the grounds. "Since we both enjoyed this so much."

"Oh - alright. Which one?"

"I don't know. Why don't you decide? You're the man."

"Very well. I'll see what's showing." He opened the door for her and they entered the dark corridor.

The two maids turned into the servants' hall, and, as Jimmy made to follow them, Ivy stopped. "I just wanted to say, I've had a lovely evening Jimmy, thank you." She turned and hurried upstairs, and Jimmy went into the hall.

Grace had her arm around Ella, and was kissing her on the cheek. The moment they caught sight of Jimmy, they froze, before running out of the room.

"You've scared 'em now," said Thomas.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Jimmy wondered how he had frightened them, but didn't like to ask in case it was obvious.

Thomas was smoking, as always, and took the time to take a drag on it and breathe out before he spoke. He was an elegant smoker. "I'll have a word with them. So. How was your evening?"

"They had lights like the sea and everyone was dancing, the music was perfect like we were going to float away, it was wonderful."

"And Ivy?" Thomas asked after a moment.

"Oh, she said she liked it too. She liked the lights."

"I meant - well, never mind. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Jimmy wondered briefly how it would be to dance with Mr Barrow. Maybe not now, though. He seemed grumpy these days.

* * *

"D'you want to go for a walk?" Thomas asked one evening, as they stood outside smoking. It was July, so despite it being almost eight o'clock the sun had not yet set.

"Why?"

"I'm gettin' itchy feet bein' here all the time. I feel like getting away for a while."

"I'd like that," Jimmy agreed, and they set off across the grounds. It was nice, he found, to be with Thomas, without the others around at all. It gave him a tingly feeling that reminded him of the night before his birthday as a child, when he would curl up in bed and try to sleep so that the morning would come faster.

"Thomas, when is your birthday?"

"October. The 14th. Why?"

"I was thinking about birthdays. Mine is next month."

"I see. I shall have to think of a gift for you soon."

"I didn't mean that."

"I know you didn't. What date?"

"7th of August."

"I'll bear it in mind," Thomas promised.

They chatted intermittently until they reached the village and wandered down the cobbled streets.

Jimmy stopped outside the pub. "I still have some of my winnings, can I buy you a drink?"

Thomas looked at it for a few moments. "Not tonight. I don't feel like being around lots of people."

"Nor me," Jimmy replied, relieved, and pressed his forehead against Thomas' shoulder briefly.

"Why did you offer, then?" Thomas asked, smiling slightly.

"I thought I should."

Thomas shook his head, but he was still smiling. "Y'silly man. Come on, shall we make our way back?"

They walked together along the road. Jimmy looked at Thomas in the fading dark and felt something twist in his stomach.

* * *

The following week, Jimmy took Ivy to the pictures. She had been sidling up close to him all week, and it made him squirm with discomfort. ' _You know what a girl wants when she does that?_ ' he heard Luke say. Jimmy wasn't sure he wanted to. It was what was next though, wasn't it? Maybe Ivy would go off him if he didn't do it, and he didn't want that; he wanted Ivy to like him.

So it was that he made the mistake that ruined everything; when they paused to sit in the moonlight, and kissed under the tree, he tried to do what Luke said was next.

But he was wrong. Ivy pushed him away and was disgusted with him. "I thought that was what you wanted," he said, confused. "Isn't that what people do?"

"It certainly isn't what _I_ do, James Kent," she replied.

And that was the end, and Jimmy didn't know why. _Thomas_ would have explained, if Jimmy had offended _him_. He tried to apologise but Ivy just didn't want to hear.


	7. Chi Mai

Suddenly, one day, Alfred was gone. Others had left, but none that Jimmy had known as long, or spent as much of his days with. And Alfred might be annoying and sometimes oddly incompetent, but he meant well, and he tried hard, and Jimmy was sure that he was, at heart, a kind man.

Jimmy was sorry to see him go.

* * *

Jimmy sat watching Thomas packing to leave on the trip with Lord Grantham. "I can't believe you're going to America. Everything will be different." Jimmy didn't like different. He liked everything to stay as it was, so he knew what to do.

"Well I'm not sorry, I can tell you that," Thomas replied. He preceded to answer Jimmy's questions about what would change, how things would be done in his absence.

"I wish I were brave enough to go," Jimmy said, rubbing his thumbs against his forefingers.

"Wouldn't you miss Ivy?"

"No, I ruined that. I got it wrong and she hates me."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. Any road, I'm sure something's just around the corner."

"I wish it'd get a move on. Or I might do something stupid."

"Well, when I get back I want to find you happy, and healthy, and courting a girl from the village. Now come on, let's go up; you can wish me luck."

* * *

He tried to be kind to Ivy in Thomas' absence, but she continued to shun him, and Jimmy continued to feel lonely, but now he missed Thomas at the same time. He had got used to being around Thomas - and to Thomas being around. Which was to say, Jimmy enjoyed his company, and also the way Thomas would help him not to mess up with the others.

He tried to distract himself with thoughts of his upcoming birthday, but he had never told anyone of the date and so was expecting the day to be just like any other, except that he would begin to call himself a year older. His last birthday had passed without a comment, and the year before that he had barely started at Downton Abbey. Goodness, he would be 30 before he knew it.

Sure enough, the 7th came and went with no particular ceremony to mark its passing among preparations for the summer bazaar. It seemed unfair to have to work on his birthday, but that was how being in service was.

At the bazaar, he tried to sneak some of the summer punch to help himself deal with the crowds, but Mr Carson had eyes like a hawk and soon gave him a job to do. Luckily, and to all their surprise, Thomas returned halfway through, with His Lordship.

Jimmy and Mr Molesley went to help Thomas unload the car. Jimmy felt his stomach do something strange again, and wondered if he was ill.

"How was it?" Mr Molesley asked Thomas.

"Interesting," Thomas replied. "Very modern. Very interesting. How has it been here?"

"Not very interesting and not very modern," Jimmy said, and was pleased when Thomas laughed. "I hope you'll tell me all about it."

"Of course. If you're interested in my stories."

"I'm always interested in your stories," Jimmy replied honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you follow me on tumblr you may have seen that I was planning to post a bonus feature with this chapter, but it's not ready yet so it'll have to wait a bit longer. Sorry! It will be coming though, honest. Probably with chapter 9.


	8. Counting Down

Jimmy went to visit Thomas that night. He sat on a chair, his knees against the bed where Thomas sat, and Thomas told him everything that had happened in New York.

"Everythin's so big," he said. "And they've got a different outfit for damn-near everything. I was undressin' His Lordship every twenty minutes."

"Did you like it there?"

"Well, it were different."

"More than here?"

"I'm not going to complain about anything that breaks the routine. It doesn't half get boring here."

Jimmy picked at the skin around his nails anxiously; Thomas had said that a few times recently, and Jimmy worried that he might want to leave.

"Mind you, there are a few things New York will never have. I didn't care much for the people."

"You didn't?"

"I'm quite happy with the company here, to be honest. It has certain advantages. How were things here, really?"

"I missed you," Jimmy admitted.

Thomas looked at him, seeming surprised, and smiled. "I got you a birthday present. D'you want it now?"

"Yes, please."

Thomas went to his case and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. "I hope you like it," he said quietly as he gave it to Jimmy. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you." Jimmy untied the string and took off the paper, to reveal a book. "Light, by Frederick Booth," he read from the cover, and flapped his free hand happily.

"You don't already have it, do you? It's quite new, from an American scientist."

Jimmy put the cool, smooth cover against his cheek. "I don't have it."

"Supposed to be about whether light is made of waves or particles. I thought you'd enjoy it."

"It looks perfect," Jimmy said, and leaned forward to press his forehead against Thomas' shoulder. Thomas rested one hand on Jimmy's upper back, and it was almost an embrace. "Can we go for a walk again tomorrow?" Jimmy asked without moving. It was nice; he felt protected without being trapped.

"Of course," Thomas replied quietly.

* * *

They found a few spare moments the following afternoon, before their dinner, and struck out across the grounds. The sun was still shining brightly, though it was quite low down in the sky by now.

"You like birthdays, then?" Thomas said after a while, as they walked across the lush green grass. "Always had happy ones?"

"Yes. My parents loved birthdays. I think my mum liked giving presents even more than she liked getting them. She was really good at it, too, she always got me just what I wanted. And they decorated with sunflowers and tinsel and things even though it wasn't Christmas, and let me pick anything I wanted for dinner. One time mum took me to the seaside and we had chips sitting next to the sea."

"My dad always made me a cake," Thomas said. "He wouldn't lift a finger the rest of the year but on birthdays he always made me and my mum a cake. It was exactly the same every year, I think it was the only thing he knew how to cook. Mum's got burnt one year but she didn't seem to mind; just put extra icing on it so you couldn't really tell."

Jimmy sat on the grass then lay down with his knees bent and sticking up in the air. Thomas lay out flat next to him.

"What kind of cake was it?" Jimmy asked, screwing up his face against the brightness.

"Chocolate cake."

They lay squinting up at the sky in silence for a while. Jimmy was happy. Being with Thomas always made him happy. He turned his head to look at Thomas and saw that his eyes were closed. He looked like he might be asleep; he looked peaceful.

Jimmy's stomach flipped again, and he didn't know why. He couldn't be ill. Luke had told him that when you were attracted to a woman your stomach would go funny, but that made no sense, because it never happened around Ivy, and she was pretty. Surely it didn't just happen at any time?

Jimmy watched the clouds slowly crossing the sky. "Thomas?"

"Mm."

"How do you know when you're attracted to someone?"

"Erm. I assume it's how you feel about Ivy, or used to."

"I meant how do _you_ know when you're attracted to someone? Because Luke said it makes your stomach go funny but that didn't happen with Ivy so maybe he was wrong. So what is it like for you?"

"I think the… stomach thing is pretty universal."

A blade of grass scratched the back of Jimmy's neck painfully, and he wriggled uncomfortably. "When?"

"Well… when you see them. When… I see someone I'm… attracted to, that's what it's like. And you want to be close to them… touch them."

"So being attracted to a man feels the same as being attracted to a woman?" Luke had never told him that. But then, he had never said that two men could kiss and be in love with each other either.

"I can't say for sure, but, I think so, yes."

"Oh." Jimmy was shocked. He had not realised it was the same.

"Does that disgust you?"

"No. It makes sense."

It made sense of how he felt about Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biromantic demisexual Jimmy ftw.


	9. Good Day

Jimmy sat in his bedroom, reading the book about light that Thomas had bought him for his birthday. He had come up to read straight after dinner, and it was fascinating.

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy looked up, blinking and disorientated. "Hmm?"

Thomas was standing in the doorway. "Are you still reading? You came up hours ago."

"Did I? Well it's a good book."

"I was just - everyone's going into the village for some local play. If you want to go. Sounds awful to me."

"I don't want to go either."

"We can just hide away at home then," Thomas said, making to leave.

"Come in," Jimmy said quickly.

Thomas hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Jimmy nodded, and Thomas came to sit on the chair. He immediately started smoking.

"So, erm, you're enjoying the book?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good - I'm glad. I really wanted to give you something special."

Jimmy watched Thomas tipping back his head to breathe out a long trail of smoke, and looked at the pale line of his neck, and his stomach flipped again, and this time Jimmy knew what it was.

"I'll have to think of something special for your birthday next, Thomas. Because… you're special to me as well."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

* * *

They spent the next weeks almost as usual, except now Jimmy was hyper-aware of every moment Thomas was in the room, and Thomas would come to Jimmy's room almost as much as Jimmy went to his.

Jimmy stopped pulling up the chair, and sat next to Thomas on the bed instead. Jimmy ached, sometimes, to just lean against him, or take his hand, but he was afraid. He didn't know how to do this. Luke had tried to teach him how to seduce women… but he had never mentioned how to tell a man he loved him.

In the end, it just slipped out. Thomas had said something amusing about the Dowager's hat and Jimmy had pressed his forehead to Thomas' shoulder to laugh, and said, "I like you a lot more than I should."

Thomas froze, and Jimmy kept his head where it was. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"It means... I feel about you how I was trying to feel about Ivy."

Thomas was silent for a long moment. "Trying? And - how's that then?"

"You make me happy and I want to make you happy, and when I see you my stomach does the flip thing and that's never happened before, and I want to be close to you all the time - and touch you."

Thomas leaned away from Jimmy and looked into his face; but when Jimmy turned his face away in discomfort Thomas looked at his hands. "Are you teasing me?" he asked quietly.

"No."

"So… so what are you saying?"

Jimmy's heart pounded nervously. "I think I'm in love with you."

Thomas stood and moved away, stumbling slightly. "No, you're - you're lying."

"I'm not lying," Jimmy mumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He was scared he had ruined everything again. "Did I say it wrong? I-I love you, Thomas."

Thomas just stared at him again with his mouth open, and Jimmy looked down at his feet against the dark wood floor.

"You're teasing…" Thomas said, but he sounded uncertain.

"I'm not."

For a moment, Thomas said nothing, then he asked quietly, "You mean that?"

"Yes," Jimmy replied. "I have for a few months, but Luke didn't tell me it was the same as loving a woman, so I didn't know that's what I felt."

He heard Thomas give a strange laugh. "Well. I love you too, Jimmy. You know that."

Jimmy darted a shy glance up at Thomas' face and rubbed his thumbs against his fingers. "I think you should kiss me," he said, standing.

Thomas approached him slowly and raised a hand as though he would caress Jimmy's cheek, but then he remembered himself and clasped the side of his neck firmly. Jimmy saw him smile, his eyebrows raised in the middle.

"What are you thinking?" Jimmy asked as Thomas hesitated, but now that he had told Thomas how he felt the anxiety was fading rapidly away.

"I'm thinkin' how amazing you are. And slightly wondering if I'm dreaming, to be honest." Thomas edged slightly closer and pressed his lips against Jimmy's, and oh _that_ was how it was supposed to feel; fizzy in his belly and happiness bubbling up uncontrollably.

Jimmy flapped his hands joyfully as Thomas pulled away, smiling. Jimmy chased his lips for another kiss. Together, they returned to half-lying on the bed, but this time they sat close enough for their bodies to touch, and Jimmy rubbed his cheek against Thomas' shoulder.

* * *

A few evenings later, Jimmy approached Ivy in the kitchen. She turned her back to him and started cutting up carrots. Jimmy took a breath and began the speech he had worked out with Thomas. "Ivy, I wanted to say I'm really sorry for getting it wrong before and I shouldn't have done that. You're a really nice person and I hope you find someone who makes you happy." He looked at the side of her face as she smiled, then she turned to him.

"I forgive you, Jimmy. I hope you're happy too. Why don't you play us all something on the piano?"

Jimmy agreed, and went to the servants' hall to take his seat, and let his fingers take their well-known dance across the now-familiar keys. Daisy, Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes all began to sing along. Anna and Mr Bates started to dance; Mr Molesley and Miss Baxter joined in, and soon almost everyone was dancing. Thomas laid a hand on Jimmy's shoulder as the music wove them all together, just for a brief time, all of them united in music and song and movement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally lied, the bonus feature has been ready since Monday, but I thought it might be a little spoilery, and then I thought that even telling you that would probably be spoilery, so I just pretended it wasn't ready. But now, here it is. It's an 8tracks playlist with one song per chapter, that I feel fits it nicely. http://8tracks.com/alex_laramie/the-sunshine-and-the-sea I've gone back and named the chapters after the songs. With bonus 'Le Onde' at the end because it's perfect for this Jimmy somehow.


	10. I Miss You/Le Onde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for every one of the lovely comments and the kudos you've given me for this story. I'm so appreciative of every single one of you for taking the time to tell me that you've enjoyed reading. Here is the final chapter, I hope you all like it!

October was cold that year, but sunny, and with very little rain. Jimmy complained bitterly that Thomas was in for a birthday with better weather than his own. "It _rained_ on my birthday," he would mutter. In response, Thomas only smiled at him and told him not to be so grumpy (and, if they were alone, kissed him sweetly on the mouth until he didn't think he could be grumpy ever again).

Jimmy had spent his every half-day since September walking around the village, trying to find something to give to Thomas for his birthday. Unfortunately, inspiration was proving hard to come by. It was not until his last half-day before Thomas' birthday that Jimmy found the perfect gift.

He secreted his purchase into the house and hid it at the back of one of his drawers. For the next two days he vibrated with excitement, making Thomas laugh at his sudden turnabout in mood even as the weather became warmer. Thomas prodded Jimmy playfully as they sat together before parting for bed. "I'll make you tell me," Thomas threatened in a low voice, smoking as always.

"Not until tomorrow," Jimmy insisted doggedly, despite the fact that he was aching to give Thomas the gift. "In the evening. Or it'll be rushed."

Before work the next morning, Jimmy crept outside into the bright morning to await a delivery. Before too long, a young boy scurried to the back door and handed over the second gift Jimmy had ordered a few days previously.

Jimmy hid it upstairs and went about his daily work. Several of the other servants wished Thomas a happy birthday, but only Anna had bought him a gift: a new black pen. The day dragged, but finally they were let off for the night. Jimmy went upstairs first, with Thomas following soon after and going straight to Jimmy's room.

Jimmy had laid the gifts on his bed, and gave Thomas the larger of them first. Thomas opened it to reveal the small chocolate cake Jimmy had had delivered freshly that morning. "With extra icing," Thomas observed with a smile as he broke a piece off to eat. "Thank you."

"And there's this," Jimmy said, pressing the other gift into Thomas' hands.

"What's this then?" Thomas said, opening the small box. He still had a smudge of chocolate icing above his mouth.

The box yielded its treasure; a small clockwork bird on spindly feet and legs.

"Wind it up," Jimmy told him.

Thomas wound up the key in the brass bird's back and put it on Jimmy's bedside table, where the body bobbed, the head nodded, and the elegant tail twitched as the hidden clockwork innards turned. The little creature seemed almost alive.

"It's beautiful," Thomas said.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course I do. It's perfect. Thank you, Jimmy." Thomas turned and they kissed, firm and loving.

* * *

Winter passed in a whirl of snow flurries, polishing, serving meals and chilly walks with Thomas. Ivy had taken a gentler attitude towards him since he had apologised. Jimmy taught Anna to peck out _London's Burning_ on the piano in return for her teaching him to sew on buttons.

Jimmy also learned all the delicious, muffled noises he could cause Thomas to make, and discovered exactly how pleasurable touching could be when they each listened to and remembered everything the other said on the topic. Thomas, for example, hated to have his feet touched, but found Jimmy gently kissing his neck to be unspeakably lovely.

The family spent the summer in London. It was a scary place. Jimmy had been there before, which helped a little; it also helped that he barely saw any of it before being deposited in the house, helping Mr Levinson's valet with some cases on his way in. He found the man unnerving, because Mr Levinson didn't understand the way English customs worked, and those customs were the rules which underpinned everything Jimmy knew about interacting with people. He tried to help, though; explaining terms that had passed Mr Levinson by, because he knew how it was to feel lost.

It was oddly reassuring to be in a situation where someone else made more slip-ups than he did.

The time was filled with lunches and picnics and at-homes. Jimmy hated it. The kitchen was the wrong side; the servants' hall table was too narrow. Jimmy was told off for rubbing his thumbs against his forefingers at upstairs' dinner; Mr Carson thought it looked as though he was spoiling for a fight.

Things did not improve when Thomas arrived, because when Jimmy had become accustomed to a quiet hour in his room before bed, pacing, Thomas disturbed him and kept wanting to touch, and kissed him with a purpose that Jimmy was not ready for. He couldn't think of that when he was so wired on tension and exhausted by stress that he could barely focus, never mind speak.

The third night after Thomas' arrival, he came into Jimmy's room only long enough to leave something on the bedside table. Jimmy continued pacing, and only discovered what the object was just before he got into bed; it was a shiny silver tablespoon, of exactly the kind that had been laid out at dinner that evening.

The next day, he sought out Thomas at the beach, sitting next to him on the warm sand, and they looked out to sea together. The gentle rush of the waves could be heard underneath the shouting children and laughing adults. "I missed you," he told Thomas.

"You've 'ardly spoken to me since I arrived. I was starting to think you'd gone off me."

"Too many people, all squashed up. I'm sorry. I'll try to be better. I know I'm strange and I get things wrong. I can't help it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy saw Thomas looking at him.

"You don't have to be 'better'," Thomas said at last, as they both gazed at the vast expanse of water. "You're lovely, and generous, and ridiculous, and grumpy, and I love you." His hand crept out and he curled his little finger around Jimmy's. "I wish I could kiss you just now."

"Me too."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments; Thomas caressed Jimmy's little finger with his own then crossed his arms before speaking. "If you give me that spoon back I'll make sure it goes back before it's missed. Don't want you getting into trouble."

"Thank you." Jimmy leant forwards to rest his chin on his knees, and absorbed himself in trickling the sand through his fingers, watching it patter down onto the grains below.

When next he looked up, Thomas was gone, and the others had begun a football game on the sand. Jimmy passed them on his walk to the sea, splashing into the cold shallows in his bare feet, gazing out at the sparkling water as it glittered in the sunlight. It felt like a shiny silver knife, cool and glistening and clean against his skin.

He listened to the sounds of the shouting servants behind him and thought, I actually like these people. And most of them like me. I'm doing well.

For a few minutes, Jimmy relaxed his rules, and rocked slowly, back and forth, as the waves of the ocean swirled around his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried really hard to make this story about /Jimmy/ and his various experiences, that just /happened/ to also be Thommy, but I'm not at all sure I succeeded. In any case, I really want that clockwork bird; I wish it was real.


End file.
